


sometimes

by tarantism



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Falling In Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarantism/pseuds/tarantism
Summary: in which mingyu's regular lecture time is changed, and a kind stranger offers him their coffee.





	sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valleyofthewind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valleyofthewind/gifts).



Mingyu sits in his seven o’clock psychology class with his eyes firmly closed, a frown situated between his eyebrows as he sinks his chin lower into his arms folded on the table. His already disliked professor just _had_ to reschedule their regular afternoon class to catch up on “marking” and “personal tutoring”. _Bastard_. Didn’t he know teenagers needed just as much sleep as babies to function, if not more? He was barely getting the average without this class cutting into it further.

 _Whatever_ , he thinks sleepily. He hates this class anyway. He’s majoring in culinary arts anyhow, he only needed this to get his grade point average up and it was a better option than taking social studies or fine art. Well, he had _thought_ it had been a better option, but considering how little he had learned in his lectures, Mingyu was starting to think he’d made more of a mistake than he previously believed.

Mingyu dozes off so much in the lectures; it’s not unexpected that the guy who slides into the seat next to him goes unnoticed. Only when he hears the small, bubbly giggle from his right does he peel his eyes open, awoken from his light sleep.

“You want my coffee?”

Blinking a couple of times to clear the blurry haze he is faced with, Mingyu looks over and squints, desperately trying to figure out whether or not he has seen the boy beside him before. He doesn’t think he has, but then again, he doesn’t really know anyone in this lecture. But, as his vision clears, Mingyu stops and slowly raises his head from where it’s planted on his arms like a pedestal for a statue. The guy is attractive in a subtle, cute way, his doe-eyes wide and brown and glistening. Mingyu swallows. 

“Hello?”

Mingyu shakes his head, ruffling his black hair with his hand. “Sorry, what?” 

The brunette kid laughs again and (oh _God_ ) it’s the closest thing he has ever heard to pure music coming out of someone’s mouth. Mingyu finds himself smiling (which is a very hard feat for him at this time of the morning).

“I asked if you wanted my coffee. You seem tired and I haven’t drink any of it yet. I got it from the coffee shop just a few minutes ago.”

The slight lilt and accent in his voice alongside the tiny tense error alerts Mingyu to the fact the boy probably isn’t from around here, and the whole thing makes him that much cuter.

“You’re my hero,” Mingyu says and he means it, because the boy hands over the drink and it’s warm—not the coffee but his hand—and their fingers brush and they both just look at each other for a moment, trying to figure out what they’re missing. The boy pulls away his slender fingers from Mingyu’s stumpier ones, looking a little embarrassed to be holding eye contact this long.

Mingyu brings the cup to his lips and takes a sip of the coffee, almost choking, because he’s definitely not expecting _that_ much sugar. His eyes water and wrinkle back, hearing the boy laughing at him in response. He glares as best as he can, but he can’t bring himself to feel truly angry. 

“Sorry,” the brunette apologises with a smile on his lips. “I should have maybe warned you. I like a lot of sugar if I get a regular coffee. It’s too bitter otherwise.”

“Too much sugar? Really? You don’t say?” Mingyu replies sarcastically, and the boy giggles. “I prefer it standard, usually. Sometimes black.” 

“Black? With no sugar or milk at all?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next class we have in the morning.”

“Speaking of classes in the morning,” Mingyu puts the coffee down (because he absolutely cannot drink that despite the boy’s generosity), “I’ve never seen you in this class before.”

“I usually just find a morning class to sit in on,” the brunette shrugs. “I’m up early and I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“You mean like, I don’t know, sleep?” Mingyu gives him a look as if he’s crazy (he definitely is if he wants to get up at seven in the freaking morning to listen to a psychology class).

“I don’t sleep much and I guess sitting through lectures helps me improve my language skills.” 

“You should try it—sleeping, I mean. It’s much nicer than this class, trust me on that one.”

“It sounds interesting though,” the boy said optimistically, finding Mingyu’s attitude amusing. “I saw the announcement on the online dashboard this morning. It’s the only morning class I haven’t been to yet so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

With a yawn, Mingyu nods. “It’s usually in the afternoon—hence my drowsy appearance and grumpy attitude.” 

“You don’t seem very grumpy.”

“Wait until he starts talking.” 

Mingyu finds that his newest acquaintance is much more than capable when it comes to understanding and utilising and rebuking sarcasm, despite the knowledge the boy definitely isn’t a native to South Korea. In the back of the class, they sit making snide remarks throughout the entire lecture, giggling to themselves with wrinkled noses and eyes clenched shut as their stomachs hurt from laughing. He realises halfway through a talk on the way people perceive things, that he would really like to be friends with this guy outside of class, and maybe he should see if he wants to grab a bite to eat with him afterwards (seeing as it is breakfast, after all).

The class ends after an hour, and the two of them rise from their seats, Mingyu now considerably more awake than he was when he walked into the class. It was an outcome he had never expected.

“So,” he says, as he starts to push the few books he had on the desk into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. “Did you want to grab something to eat?”

The brunette looks up at him from where he stands a few inches shorter than the black-haired boy. His face droops in regret as he checks the time on his phone. “My real class actually starts in about ten minutes.” 

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It was just a silly suggestion.”

The two of them sort of stare at their shoes then as the other people in the class start to shuffle out of the hall; both of them want to do something because whatever this is that they had developed over the course of an hour feels really right, as if the two brightest stars in the sky has aligned. But there they stood, right there at the back of the lecture hall, speechless and nervous.

Then the other boy breaks the silence, clearing his throat. “But I could do lunch?”

Mingyu grins as wide as he has ever grinned before (well, at least as wide as he has ever grinned at eight bloody AM before) and nods, unable to say anything but an ecstatic, “Okay! Yeah.”

“I’ll meet you in the courtyard at twelve?”

Smile still on his face, Mingyu nods. The boy grins back and Mingyu feels something pull in his chest as the brunette turns to leave.

“Hey, wait!” Mingyu suddenly finds his voice again, causing the boy to turn on his heel, eyes sparkling. “I, uh, never got your name.” 

Giving him another dazzling smile, the brunette replies, “Minghao.”

“I’m Mingyu.”

“See you later, Mingyu.”

  

 

Mingyu shows up early for lunch, and finds himself super embarrassed at being so nervous about meeting up with Minghao because really, they’re just a budding friendship. He’s just a guy that he met in class and had a few laughs with that completely made his morning. But Mingyu feels something in his stomach, or maybe his chest, or maybe his throat that gives him the idea that maybe it isn’t so simple. Maybe there’s something he’s missing. He’s definitely missing something. 

He finds himself both mortified and so relieved when he sees Minghao in the courtyard before him. They are both half an hour early, and suddenly he isn’t as embarrassed anymore. Minghao is obviously as nervous as the black-haired boy feels, but their smiles melt any ice that would have had to be broken between them. 

They decide to go off campus for lunch after a mutual agreement that college food does not compare to having a bite to eat in a nice little café where they can have warm drinks and sandwiches. So that’s where they go. They walk about ten minutes into town and settle into a nice, quaint little café and Mingyu finds himself really, really, _really_ liking Minghao. 

Minghao’s round eyes stare at him as if he’s a piece of art on display at a museum, and it makes Mingyu blush against his tan skin. The ends of their shoes touch under the table and neither of them feel the need to awkwardly move their feet, leaning towards each other whilst talking instead. The conversation isn’t even that interesting, but honestly, Minghao could talk about sand with that cute accent of his and Mingyu would be fascinated.

The corners of their lips never lose the lilt of a smile, even when nothing is funny; if anyone were to look closely at them from the outside, it would probably be very obvious that they were falling in love with every syllable that left their lips.

It doesn’t take long before they know each other’s coffee orders by heart and their favourite colours, shoe sizes, majors and minors, freckle and mole patterns and general class schedules. They bring each other breakfast and have inside jokes and knock on each other’s dorms late at night and stand too closely together in lunch lines. They are poetic and beautiful and scared.

Minghao, whom Mingyu learns early on is majoring in dance and minoring in physical therapy, tells Mingyu all about muscles and joints; Mingyu would normally never have cared about the proper way to warm up, but how can he not care now, especially when Minghao’s eyes light up like stars with enthrallment and a grin forms on his lips when he asks if he can show Mingyu a new bit of choreography he’s been working on and is really proud of?

Mingyu cooks for Minghao every now and then and reads Korean novels to him as they sit against the wall outside in the courtyard with freshly baked goods in a box in front of them, their sides touching, and sometimes Minghao puts his head in his lap as he listens. Sometimes Mingyu absentmindly twirls either Minghao’s hair or the tassels on his jumper as he speaks, the brunette appreciating him helping him with his language skills. 

They experience a lot of “sometimes” things. Sometimes they almost say something that would be a bit too personal, a bit too emotional, and a bit too romantic for their _completely_ platonic friendship. Sometimes they think about holding hands and lying beside each other at night, just talking and being close together, and sometimes they almost do. Sometimes they almost say it (“I love you”) and sometimes they finally do, in a whisper, all alone when no one can hear but the sky and the blank walls of their dorm rooms, but maybe, just maybe, it will travel through the electric currents in the air and reach the other.

It doesn’t.

Minghao hears the news on a Monday, from the dean of the college, as he waits in the courtyard for Mingyu to return from Anyang. He had visited for the weekend (Minghao was dreadfully bored) because it was his sister’s birthday and was due to comeback around noon, he had promised the evening prior. 

He never comes. 

The dean says it had been a drunken high school kid in a four-by-four full of other drunk high school kids. She says there was a bag in the passenger seat with a rose and a tag that read, “I am in love with you,” and Minghao crumples to the ground against a bench. The dean says she is unbelievably sorry for his loss and leaves him to be with himself for a while and Minghao despises her for it.

He doesn’t want to be with himself. He wants to be with Mingyu. But he can’t, because Mingyu will never be anywhere again, especially not with him.

Minghao goes back to his dorm room, slowly, wobbly, and cries. It’s a miracle he manages not to collapse before his bed is before him. He never cries, but he does this time because Mingyu said he was in love with him and he died wondering if Minghao loved him too.

Minghao does. Minghao loves him so much.

 

 

He goes to Mingyu’s funeral in his best suit, his eyes puffy and red, and he just can’t bring himself to touch the closed casket, and he can’t remember what the last words they shared were, but he hopes they were something monumental, something _spectacular_.

He knows they weren’t.

The service is small and respectful. Minghao shakes the hands of Mingyu’s parents and sister, tells them that Mingyu was his best friend, and they tell him that the whole time Mingyu had been visiting he never stopped talking about him. Minghao finds that knowing that doesn’t comfort him. 

He places a single rose on Mingyu’s gravestone that following Friday after fighting with himself for days, and he never looks back.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaand then minghao woke up from his nightmare. i'm sorry.


End file.
